


Romantically pounded in the pusher by a 2 meter tall Psiioniic

by ChucTingle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Minor Kismesissitude, Moirails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChucTingle/pseuds/ChucTingle
Summary: Work for Starlit Affections: A Pale Romance ZineIt came out a while back and I forgot to post it here so it is here now. My first zine work as a writer.This is from Dualscar's perspective, even tho I actively write Psii and have never written Dual before. I am indeed, very smart.https://twitter.com/PaleRomanceZine
Relationships: Orphaner Dualscar/The Psiioniic | The Helmsman
Kudos: 8





	Romantically pounded in the pusher by a 2 meter tall Psiioniic

It’s one of those things, to wax pale is to show a part of yourself that can be considered weak or strange. And you have told him before multiple times. You don’t wax that way, and he has responded with the same smirk and nonchalant attitude as before.

But what if you do? Couldn’t be. You’re already vacillating between pitch and flush. Pity is not something that you hand out like candy, even if the way he looks at you makes you feel sorry about yourself.

You’re both on bed, you don’t need to think about what happened in bed, recuperacoons are for sleeping, beds are for other things. Even tho he sleeps just as soundly in either of them you recon. 

The Psiioniic, lying next to you and snoring loudly as he does, drooling to the side of his mouth in one of your feather pillows. Seems to be unbothered by your early night thoughts, as a matter of fact he doesn’t seem to even be aware you are awake and thinking. Good, he shouldn’t.

The soft rocking of your ship makes for a somewhat pleasant environment to sleep in. But either way, as the restless sleeper you are, it can’t help you. You sigh and look at the planked ceiling that you have now. This is your life now. You look back at him, just sleeping there. The scars of his body making constellations, marks of his life, a road full of pain. They are not like yours of course, hardly. If you were to have pity, if you were to think of him that way, it wouldn’t be scars that drive you to it. It wouldn’t be his infuriating personality or the way he can get you to tremble with words. No.

If you, Orphaner Dualscar, Caelus Ampora, were to pity the troll in next of you, with your pusher in your hand it would be started by something entirely different. Perhaps a conversation not so long ago, perhaps one of those passing things that got washed away by the allure of his dodgy hyperactive nature. Something that the Psiioniic himself dodged to think about more than 2 seconds after he said it. “I thought she liked me.”

You slowly sit up, reaching for your prosthetic leg laying on the side of bed and put it in place without making much noise. It is only then it hits you how cold everything is. The metal of the prosthetic hits your muscle and sends a painful shiver across it. You grunt, it’s one of those days where your muscles compress, they refuse to cooperate.

You stop to crack your neck and shoulders. Stretching once more and massaging your stub before continuing with what has been markedly referred to as your ‘peg leg’. You let out a long barely stifled groan, feeling the shift on the bed right after, but Psii isn’t awake yet. That’s a good thing. A lazy ass like him wouldn’t be awake anyway. 

The fool thought the Condesce liked him, pity, you pity him. You made the same mistake too. You understood that beyond anything else that you can or can’t understand about him. When you devote your life to someone who won’t even look at you and then realise it too late, you are saddled with something that is for you to deal with and for her to ignore. Pity.

You shoo those thoughts away with a mental hand motion, you don’t need more of that. You really don’t. You finish getting your prosthetic on lock. A chilly morning of simmering, more time to sit here and think. He isn’t awake yet, of course he wouldn’t be. You smile to yourself, thinking you should get off bed, find the nearest lusus to the shore, get a catch early and deliver it to the endless pit monster that is Condece’s lusus and call it a day. Will give you some time to spend, maybe a couple days, with him.  
Ew.

Don’t get too sappy now, he doesn't need that. No one does. Even if you would like to enjoy it, you know it's… unnecessary. She will be fed anyway, and the sooner the better. It doesn’t need him, but Psii works as some sort of benefit.

You get off from the bed and directly to your dresser. A shirt, some pants, holster, your armor. Layers of clothing to make you look bigger, intimidating. Of course you don’t fucking need them, but they help. A preemptive response to the usual mockery of your companion. But he isn’t even a-

“You look--....” Nevermind then. You roll your eyes as you turn back to face him, Psiioniic with a dumb smile, he looks satisfied. At least that’s what you think. You squint. He has seen you like this before but he always says almost the exact same thing when he catches you with your armor on. Which is 99% of the time.

You don’t need him to say but might as well get it out of the way before he makes even a bigger show of mocking your existence, because he will, if you don’t respond he will escalate until you have to smack his face. You motion at him to repeat what he said, your hearing isn’t what it was once. “You look stupid with that on.” Ah lovely. 

As you move, you are ready to dismiss everything he is about to say, but you catch a glimpse of Psii’s age under the glow of his eyes. It fades away, shit eating grin bright and loud while he sits on bed. He does a head motion to get the hair of his face. “You already gave her food like 3 days ago? No need to be all hasty like, she doesn’t get hungry that fast.” He makes that clear, you can even feel how he makes an effort to painfully enunciate, you have yet to decide if that is mockery or a show of respect. You feel like it's both. 

“You can just stay in bed and rest. It’s cold and you are gonna leave me freezing?” Your scowl back doesn’t seem to make him happy. He changes positions, now elbows on knees, feet together as hands hang, the rug still half covering him. He is stupid, and hot.

“She always needs to eat.” You quip, sternly. “You know this. Can’t have a slip now.” Psii makes a face and responds with his voice getting quiet. Like a child pouting in complaint “I think a few days ago was enough.”. 

“You can never be sure. Not with something like that, of that size. You’ve seen her, I shouldn’t be explaining this to you.” You stop facing Psii and put your handle on the door, opening it. You don’t leave just yet, the tension that hangs on the air forbids you from doing so. “Now stop making a fuzz, the later it gets the later I’ll be back. If you want me to spend time with you, you better-” 

You’re good on your way to get a hold of the ahab to walk out of this conversation with the last closing statement when the door shuts faster than you can react to it doing so, leaving a trail of red and blue sparkles in the air.

You partially turn your head to see him with the corner of your eyes as you try to pry the door open. He could be just messing with you, but your inability to struggle against the force holding the door close gets you angry enough to turn to Psii fully and raise your voice. “What the fuck are you doing? This is no time to be playing games.”

“I’m not playing.”

“Then _let go.”_

“Bitch” The psiioniics of the door stop before the door smacks you on the side in a quick motion. You take it like a rock takes the ocean and don’t bulge, however it makes you flinch. Opening your eyes to see Psii closing it again with the same psionic force as before. **“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?”**

Your voice booms, you are pretty sure half the ship just heard you yell. You aren’t a public person, but you’ll be dammed if you are about to be steam rolled by some juvenile psionic that believes that can so much mess around with your duties.

The psionic in question doesn’t reply, he just looks at you. Eyes staring as blue and red glow and crackle. There it is again, the unusual frown that he gets. A rare one that you have learnt to catch. One that you didn’t think it existed under all of that charismatic nonsense he likes to spill. But it does and it makes you hold your breath and remember he is far older than you, older than you can imagine. That to him you are no more than a baby, a spot in his longevity.

You know this, it's comforting, but you tend to not constantly think about it because of how lively he tends to be. He energizes you and acts like he was born yesterday. And here now underneath all of that, you feel 20 sweeps old looking at the giant sailors of old times, those who have seen things you will never imagine. A troll thousands and thousands of years old beyond any numbers you can count, staring at you sternly like you were the one on the wrong.

“She has eaten.” His voice, cold as the weather, doesn’t break you of your stupor. “It's not a good time, get back to bed and rest, you are tired.”

But the necessity to respond, protect your duties, does. “If she doesn’t eat we all die. I’m not about to doom the entirety of the planet for a few more seconds on bed.”

“It’s not about that! You know it. She ate recently, you don’t need to wear yourself thin for her.”

“Someone has to.”

“No one needs to burn themselves to death to feed a creature or for the Empress. She will kill the rest of us once your corpse is cold!.” He doesn’t yell and you don’t get too angry. It’s true, and you have thought about it. You don’t like to, but the reality is simple, if you are gone, so be it a freak accident or it be age, unless someone else is prepared, that’s it. Everyone dies anyway regardless of how many sweeps you’ve spent doing this job..

You turn back to the door, ire gone and more of a stagnant resignation illuminating your face. You don’t have time to get depressed. You have alcohol for that. You reach for your weapon again because if you must, you will blow the door open. Midair you feel the electricity touch your wrist, you freeze expecting pain or force but neither of those things happen, just the gentle warmth and touches from the psionics, as if Psii had gotten out of bed and was holding you.

Even without looking at him, facing him for all he has to say, you can understand the words through the heat.

Please.

You hesitate, wave off the energy with one motion, the warmth leaving your fingertips last. You take a hold of the handle of the door, now psionic less. He has yielded and you can just walk out and do your monumental duty that is yours to bear. Your grip on the handle tightens and then you sigh with your gills as all your air leaves your body. An inhale and you take your cape off. Your armor comes loose next, you haven’t looked at him yet as your clothes form a messy pile next to you. Fuck this.

You don’t enjoy uncertainty but at the end of the day, she has eaten recently and it might be good to catch a break just for today, as you remove your last layer of armor you can feel your joins decompress and hurt, the ache from an old scrap, the scars that burn from memory and recollections. It sucks to be weak but your body thanks you the respite.

You notice Psii when he is close to you, he has gotten out of bed, by the time you are out he is holding you from the back, his big arms surrounding you as you have barely finished taking your belt off.

“Thank you” His breath hits your neck and he gives you a pap and a kiss. Bewildering, really, you aren’t prepared for that. You have to think of a delicate response but the idiot goes ahead and decides to lift you up by your middle. “WHAT ARE YOU-”

His laughter is loud enough as he lifts you up and slams you backward into the bed, shoulders and neck getting the hit before you fall on your back. “Son of a bitch…” At least it was a soft landing. You wheeze more curses out as you just accept this is you now.

Psiioniic seems back to his usual self as he sits down next to your prosthetic and starts removing it. He pats your other calve, you bury your head on a pillow. He leans to kiss your side before not so gently jumping in to lay next to you and pull the covers. You just continue to hide your face on the pillow and tuck your arms underneath. This fucking prick.

He is very good at making you forget that there are things to be done and he is very good at making you remember what you … what you actually deserve. You take a deep sigh to face him, just to see him smiling there and not saying much. That is fine by you, at the very least in contrast with the morning, under these sheets and next him, it is warm here. Very much so.


End file.
